'Unintentional Eye Candy' (James/Reese Version)

[Alternate Text: An image of a lifeguard stand that overlooks the ocean. It has a vibrant red umbrella to provide some shade that matches the red material of the chair, a perfect perch to watch those in the water. ‘Unintentional Eye Candy' acts as the title in a breezy white font.]

[Sidenote: R’s scarring from the spriggan in Book One will be addressed in the series. I’m simply ignoring it for these writings given their overall lighter tones. 😎 ]

_ _ _

"Oh, they want a show?" Reese asks with apparent mockery. "We will give them one."

The chain link fence produces a soft metallic twang when he unhooks his fingers from it, no longer hanging on to peer over the tall shrubbery. Your commitment to stealth is far less than his; you simply observed James through the slats of the entry gate. The issue is the two of you aren't the only ones watching…

"Will you keep these"—Reese slips off his designer sunglasses, sliding them into place atop your head with care—"safe for me?"

His fingers adjust the accessory to ensure it won't fall before they skim across your left cheek. The action would be tender, if not for the possessive edge to the touch that lingers near your jaw, guiding you to look directly at him rather than to continue peeping on James by exerting a whisper of pressure. It was closer to a gentle steering. Sunny daylight is one reason why Reese's eyes are slightly narrowed against the bright rays, while the other is because he must have been glaring behind the dark lenses.

"Sure, but I—"

Your concerns about this 'show' are put on hold when he kisses you soundly, a thank you.

"Will you also be my accomplice?"

He murmurs his next request after pulling away a few scant inches while still resting his fingers beneath the natural curve of your jaw. It adds a level of seriousness—of secrecy—that's contrasted by his devilishly playful smirk that promises nothing but trouble. You're not nearly as immune to it as James is. "Of course," you distractedly agree to whatever his grand idea is, possibly doing so a little too easily. "I'll help."

"I will make it up to you after I wash off the communal water, possibly before, if you like?"

Insinuation is threaded through his words, but his smirk softens around the edges. Reese is so close that you can smell the sweet shea butter in the ultra-protective sunscreen he slathered on the both of you before daring to venture out in the middle of the afternoon. You naturally raise a hand to take his shirt, unable to look away as he slowly tugs it off. He is clad in sleek swim trunks that are solid black.

Reese carefully folds his shirt, which gives you ample time to notice how the expensive sunscreen has added a slight sheen to his fair skin. More skin is revealed as the white fabric becomes a compact square, tempting your eyes to follow the planes of toned muscle now on display. His abs honed through consistent workouts act as unsaid guiding lines for your sight, but you manage to glance higher as the silence draws on just in time to see him knowingly smile.

You were caught looking, not that he minds.

"Divert James's attention for me, and I will eventually get him off of that stupid stand."

"But how?" you ask. "He's on watch duty."

"I can be very persuasive," Reese boasts.

He unlatches the gate, propping it open for you to follow him before he takes the lead to set this 'show' into motion. There's an abrupt change in temperature between the minimally shaded area you were squatting in and the slabs of concrete that surround the pool. Heat wafts from the pavers, making the large pool in the center appear all the more inviting, so one should either seek refuge in its watery depths or stick to the shady umbrellas along its edges.

Reese spares you one last conspiring glance before he enters the pool by diving in with impeccable form. He may be showing off. You watch as he cuts through the water, focusing on his ebony swimsuit as he remains submerged to chart an underwater lap that won't disturb the kids playing in the shallow end. Aside from the children, there is a man with a popsicle idly kicking his feet in the water and an elderly woman walking in a lap lane for some exercise. Even so, the community pool is technically packed, it just isn't filled by the typical swimmers, but by sunbathers who might be gawking at the temporary lifeguard.

The lounge chairs closest to the lifeguard's stand are completely filled up, not a single one is empty within the first row you walk past.

Books brought to read by the pool are left forgotten on side tables, while the wine coolers seem further out of place. A few of them don't even look dressed to dip in the water. You continue the stifling trek across the pool area, already feeling the attention of a particular someone who should be watching the water.

There is no question James had to have seen Reese's dive, while your approach is less flashy.

"[Name]?"

James calls to you from beneath his umbrella, shifting all of his weight to one side to peer over the arm of the elevated chair. While the red swim trunks are required, you somehow doubt the unbuttoned, short sleeved linen shirt is. Irrationally, you think you hear someone gasp when James's motion to get a better view causes the shirt's panels to part, widening further and no longer concealing his chest.

"What are you doing up there besides guarding life?" you ask, unsure how best to distract him.

"Slowly baking," he replies, although his eyes stray from you to a particular lane of the pool that is getting rigorous use. "Why is Reese—?"

"Mrs. Bakewell," you preemptively answer him with a hint of exasperation that's directed at one of the town's busybodies. Unfortunately, there is more than one when it comes to Fernweh's rumor grapevine that can be as verdant as its surrounding forests. "Reese overheard her. We knew you were doing some 'volunteering' this weekend, but apparently so do some of the people at the country club."

"Don't they have their own indoor pool…?"

"It doesn't have a hot lifeguard slash detective."

James becomes self-conscious following your compliment. He shuffles closer to the rail of his chair, waffling on putting a foot on the first rung to climb down and properly greet you or to man his post. "Alex originally signed up for this," he reveals. "They're still sick, so I wasn't about to let them sit out in the heat or get hot and cold from going in and out of the water."

"I understand," you reassure him. "Reese does too. You know how he can get when they say anything out of line about us. It just set him off because—"

"Someone needs help!"

The fact that Tabitha, a nosey police officer whom you've clashed with, shouted that irritates you more than the actual substance of her cry.  Really, she's here too? You turn around to face her before tracking where she is wildly gesturing to see that Reese seems to be clutching his side to pantomime… a side stitch? A burst appendix? A muscle spasm? It's more believable than you would like to admit, which could be why James practically vaults from the lifeguard stand, using the metal rail as a pole and avoiding the rungs before landing.

Sure, Reese is 'persuasive', but also dramatic.

You don't have a chance to say anything to James; he's barreling into the water while you're only a half step behind him to assist.

"Is that the Verner heir? He's here?!"

"Aw, his shirt…"

"Oh my goodness!"

You ignore the snatches of conversation, hardly hearing them over the hurried slaps of your sandals on the concrete. The half-hearted splashing in the deep end has stopped as if Reese's weak, one-armed attempts to stay afloat were all for nothing. He's now limp, lost to the deep end, whereas James is shoving aside gallons of water with each powerful stroke of his arms to cross the large pool. It's difficult for you to see everything from your place on the edge, but James resurfaces with Reese, linking an arm around him before easily paddling over to you. He lifts him up with care, only then hauling himself out far more roughly.

You kneel by Reese's head, impressed at his commitment to being seemingly unconscious, even when you wick away some of the water from his forehead. It's best if you focus on his face or else your own could give something away. There isn't any real danger, only a ruse.

"Reese?" James states his name far too firmly, not quite his Detective tone. "You couldn't have drowned that quickly. That isn't how it works."

You both wait for some sort of reaction.

. . .

"…Perhaps, you should give me CPR, to be certain…?"

Reese's voice comes out weakly from how he barely moves his lips, committed to keeping his eyes stubbornly closed while laying there.

You have to bite back a laugh when James gives you a long-suffering look, but he does comply with Reese's request in a way, leaning closer. Unlike Reese's earlier skimming touch to your cheek, James actually solidly grips his chin, tilting his head back in the proper position to administer first aid before kissing him harshly, or at least you suspect so from the way Reese's eyes instantly fly open. His startled surprise is evident when he looks at you briefly before accepting the out of character kiss, melting rather than pretending to be out of it.

This time you're certain of hearing at least one gasp along with a ripple of murmurs from the small crowd a distance away. You just allow a proud smile to curl your lips. This isn't a show for them, although they are welcome to watch, if not want. It will always be the three of you.

James pulls back after a moment despite Reese's touch asking him to linger longer.

"If you ever do that again—"

"You will drown me yourself?" Reese interjects.

"—you'll be the one reviving me, understand?"

Reese has the decency to nod along with that statement, subdued for once by James's seriousness. He shuffles to his elbows, tipping his head back to catch your eye to offer a quick wink. "I understand, so does my accomplice," he retorts. "But more importantly, so do they."

You follow Reese's line of sight to the crowd that's naturally caved in beneath the weight of feeling like an awkward fourth wheel. Your trio is huddled together, sharing a moment by the pool while they're just simply there. No one dares to gawk, not when the Verner heir is staring back with a smugness that's begging to be questioned so he can pounce. The attention doesn't seem to faze James, just like how he sat at the tower, vigilant yet remote from all that was going on until you both arrived here. It could almost make you feel bad for the futility of the gawkers; he doesn't care enough to spare a first look, so a second one is also out.

The community pool suddenly feels a lot less communal.

"We can pick up dinner after your lifeguard shift," you offer. "The pool closes soon, right?"

"A few hours, but you're going to stay?"

"As if we would go anywhere else," Reese replies, hauling himself into a sitting position and then taking your offered hand to get up. He doesn't let go. "May I climb the lifeguard tower?"

"No."

"Can [Surname] climb it?"

James hesitates before shaking his head in the negative, which earns a soft scoff from Reese.

"You hesitated, Mr. Lifeguard."

"You pretended to drown."

"After closing time, maybe James will let you climb it," you intercede. "If you swim normally."

"Maybe…"

James glancing away to inspect the water after Reese's smile brightens only assures you that he will be allowed to scale the perch.